Before The Storm
by Lady Nailo
Summary: The paths of a young cleric/ranger and an inexperienced hunter cross, setting in motion one of the Realms' greatest and most tragic love stories. Pre-BG Kivan and Deheriana and their story. Chapter 2 up!
1. With You

Disclaimer: Baldur's Gate belongs to Black Isle. The Plot and the characterization of Deheriana belong to me, and I'm very proud of her, so don't steal her. Kivan belongs under my bed, but we're not discussing that :) Author's note at bottom, enjoy the show! 

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**Before The Storm**   
Chapter 1: With You 

The moment he saw her, the breath was torn from his body and his head seemed to fill with fog. She seemed bathed in light, a bright halo around her dark hair and her eyes bright spots of blue above him. Maybe it was the pain that made him think she was an angel come to save him, but for the moment he couldn't help but stare. 

She was saying something to him. "Are you alright?" Her voice was beautiful, soft and gentle like a summer sunrise. He blinked several times, lifting a hand to rub his eyes clear of the dirt that had invaded them. "You're bleeding," she was saying, touching the side of his face gently. "What happened to you? How far have you traveled?" 

"I…I come from…" His eyes focused on his hand, covered in a red sheen of blood. "Shilmista…" He looked up at her, into her concerned eyes. "I haven't been there in years, though…" 

"Never mind that," she said softly. She muttered a few words and touched his arm, where a large gash marred his skin. It healed instantly, leaving nothing behind but dried blood and a small line. She repeated this procedure several times, healing some of the smaller cuts along his face and neck, pulling open his shirt to try to close the long cut made by the renegade worg he had fought the night before. She worked in silence, apart from her murmuring of spells, for several minutes, until she finally leaned back, her hands wet with his blood. "I've used up my spells, but that cut isn't healed yet," she said, wiping her hands on a cloth at her waist. Leaning over to close his shirt, she touched his hand. "My house isn't far from here. It isn't much, but I have clean water and bandages, as well as more healing magic." She offered a small smile to him, lighting up her face with a soft glow, and helped him rise to his feet. The lightheadedness he had felt a moment before had disappeared from his slowly healing body, and he was steady on his feet, if a little weak. "Please, come." He paused. 

"I-I have no money," he said, pulling his arm slowly away from her, even though he wanted nothing more than to have her touch him. "I…" 

The woman smiled again, brushing her hair away from her face. She was obviously elven, with pointed ears like his, although her skin was slightly tan and her hair had a reddish tint to it. In fact, she resembled a sylvan elf, like himself, aside from the lighter skin and darker hair. She was also shorter and thinner than the women of his village, without the muscular build common in both sylvan elf men and women. Her eyes were blue, as well -- a rarity at best in sylvan elves. Her long, simple dress of brown and green resembled something similar to cleric's robes, though of whom he did not know. She took his arm again, urging him to lean on her for support. "I ask for nothing in return," she said, looking up at him, "only for company around my table and perhaps a tale or two of your travels." She offered him another of her brilliant smiles. "Skerrit knows I don't get many visitors." 

"I…" he began, looking at her. He trailed off, once again struck speechless by her. He knew he was staring again, but he didn't care. "I-I…Thank you," he finally managed. She laughed lightly, sliding one of her slim arms around his waist and supporting him with more strength than he thought was in her small frame. 

"It's nothing," she said quietly, beginning to walk him slowly down a barely visible trail. "The God led you to me for a reason only he knows." She looked up at him again and smiled once more. "A reason that even I, Deheriana, his most faithful of children, can't fathom." 

"Deheriana," he whispered, looking down at the path and her feet walking next to his. "A beautiful name." The words spilled out before he could stop them, and he glanced over to see the tips of her elven ears turning pink. 

"You flatter me," she said, not meeting his eyes. She was silent for several minutes, the sound of their feet blending with the sounds of the forest as they walked. After a time, she looked at him. "You know my name," she began, "what is yours? How did you end up so close to death and so far from your people?" 

"Kivan," he said, forcing himself to look away from her. "I was tracking a worg through these woods last night. I hadn't slept, so the worg caught me off guard as I dozed against a tree." He frowned, his face flushing in embarrassment. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep, but…" 

"You were tired," Deheriana supplied, "and no doubt the worg was waiting for that. They can be crafty creatures. In fact, they've been giving me some trouble recently as well, although I'm surprised only one attacked you. Usually they travel in groups, or in the company of goblins." Kivan nodded, once again glancing towards her. She carried with her a spear, intricately carved with vines and animals up and down the shaft, and a sling hung at her side. Her steps were confident; she obviously knew the forest well, stepping around holes in the path and crouching below hanging branches with barely a glance to them. Small animals, squirrels and mice mostly, skittered through the woods at her feet, and she smiled and chittered to them softly, sending them scattering ahead of her, dodging around trees and bushes and scampering back to her. 

"Do you speak to them?" he asked, his voice seeming loud in the natural confines of the forest. She smiled and shook her head, bending down to beckon to one of the squirrels. It came to her, jumping on her hand and running up to her shoulder to nestle in her hair. 

"I don't speak to them as much as understand them," she said, scratching the head of the small animal. It chittered, touching a paw to her cheek, then turned to look at Kivan. "The animals don't speak in words, the way we do. They speak in actions and feelings." The squirrel cocked its head, and then leaped in one fluid motion onto Kivan's shoulder. It sniffed, its whiskers tickling his neck, then laid its paw on his cheek like it had with Deheriana. He watched it in surprise as it chittered again and leapt to the ground, scampering into the forest ahead of them. Deheriana smiled. 

"Actions like that, touching another, are gestures of trust and understanding." She pushed aside a curtain of vines. The entrance led to a low hanging canopy made of branches and bushes, giving the effect of a green tunnel leading to a point of light in the distance: a clearing. The clearing housed a small cabin, next to a garden overgrown with both herbs and vegetables. Inside a paddock made of tree beams a small fawn bleated, its side and one of its back legs bandaged in strips of cloth. "Living alone, with rare company, I find that animals have more to say that one would think. They have thoughts and feelings just like you and I, and their ways of expression are so different that I can't help but be fascinated." She smiled and left him to stand in the center of the clearing with her gear, walking over to the fawn and touching its head gently. She knelt next to it, letting it nuzzle her hand for a moment, laughing as it tried to bite at her hair. 

Kivan leaned on the spear, a small smile on his face. Deheriana still sparkled in the sun, smiling towards him, the sunlight playing across her hair and turning it red-gold like the sunset that was fast approaching. _Gods help me, I must be dreaming_, he thought as he watched her check the bandages on the fawn, and, seeming satisfied, set it off to romp across the paddock with a pat on the rump. 

He shook himself out of his thoughts as she approached, looking worried. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked, laying a cool hand on his forehead. "Your eyes look a bit glassy…" 

"I-" he began, falling silent as she touched his face gently. She looked concerned for him, something he wasn't used to seeing often. He wasn't used to seeing many people at all, in fact; a lone hunter like he was at home with solitude. Or, rather, he should be. But, he realized, as she led him inside the small, clean cabin and pushed him down on the soft bed by one of the windows, if solitude meant renouncing the company of the kind, beautiful, gentle Deheriana, perhaps it wasn't as good as he thought it to be. 

She made him take off his shirt, bathing the deep cut in his chest that her magic hadn't healed with cool water. She talked easily, asking him from what direction he traveled, and how far he had come before the worg had attacked. Her questions came rapidly, and often he would become lost, staring at her blankly after she had asked five or six in a row. She laughed every time, letting him answer in his own time, and after several minutes he found it easy to fall into a conversation with her. Her voice was sweet, reminding him of the minstrels in the cities he had ventured into. He said this, making her laugh again. "My mother was a performer before she met my father," she said, sitting back and reaching for a jar from the table next to the bed. "They always said I had her voice, but I was never trained for singing." She blushed slightly. "I suppose it's only the animals that sing with me now." She began spreading a sweet smelling salve from the jar onto the now clean wound. He winced. "A strong hunter like you shouldn't wince from simple herbs," she teased, glancing up at him. He blinked, her face inches away from his, and swallowed. 

"I'm sorry…?" he chanced. She laughed, putting the cover back on the jar of salve. She stood up and smoothed down her dress, carrying the jar to a series of shelves. There were other jars there, as well as bunches of dried herbs and baskets of cloth strips. 

"My mother used to say that to my father," she said, reaching to put the jar on the top shelf. She was forced to stand tiptoed to reach it. Lifting one of the baskets off a lower shelf, she turned back to him. She wiped her hands on her dress and sat next to him, setting the basket at her feet and beginning to wrap his chest in long strips of white cloth. "They would always joke with each other like that," she continued, "mostly because my mother would always heal my father when he was caught in a battle. He would complain that he was fine, and that she needed healing more than he, and why wasn't she helping herself instead of wasting bandages and potions on him?" She laughed again, smoothing out the bandages with a soft touch that made Kivan suppress a shiver. "They loved each other so much…" 

For a moment a sad expression crossed her face, almost too quick for him to notice properly. She stood up without a word and moved to hearth, bending down to feed the fire burning merrily there. Night was quickly approaching, and though the late summer sun warmed the mornings and afternoons nicely, when it dipped below the horizon a wind sprang up and drove off any lingering heat still in the ground. Suppressing another shiver, Kivan shrugged on his shirt once again and stood up. 

"I won't be troubling you any longer," he said, making Deheriana turn from the hearth to look at him. "I'm much better than I was when you found me, and I should probably be on my way…" 

"No!" she said, jumping up and running a few steps towards him. She reached out a hand to him, but withdrew it again, holding it to her chest. "I mean to say, maybe you shouldn't leave just yet." A fleeting look of embarrassment flared across her face, leaving her cheeks flushed and her ears turning pink. "It wouldn't be any trouble for me to have you stay, and I would feel better if I could watch you at least until tomorrow, to make sure there aren't any more serious problems with your injuries, or any new ones spring up. You never know with worgs, they're smarter than they look. Besides," she looked down and away, biting her lip nervously, "I get visitors so rarely…It's nice to have someone other than the animals to talk to…even if I do talk a little too much…" She fell silent and looked up at him. 

Kivan looked at her, her hands twisting a fold of her dress over and over. He owed her his life; if she hadn't come by when she did, he would have died from the wounds the worg had given him before the sun set. He was lucky to be able to see the moon this night. Deheriana looked down, dropping her dress and self-consciously smoothing the wrinkles out of it. "I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't keep you if you have somewhere to be, or someone to go home to." The look of sadness passed over her features again, and she turned back to the hearth with a resigned sigh. "I won't delay you any longer. If you need any healing potions, I have extras. You may need them if the worg comes back." She paused again. "I talk to much," she said softly, sighing. 

Kivan paused, and took a step forward. "Deheriana," he said, suppressing the shiver again, "please, I-" He stopped again, unsure of what to say. She turned back to him, watching him with an unguarded expression of sadness lingering in her eyes. The flickering light of the fireplace behind her gave her a red-golden halo around her head. If not for her ice-blue eyes, she could be a fire angel. "I'd like to stay," he said finally, "If you'll have me. I don't need to be anywhere else." 

"You don't have anywhere to go?" she said softly, taking a step towards him. "Home…?" 

"Is far away for me," he replied, running a hand through his sandy blond hair. "I haven't been there in years, and I doubt I would find a welcome there anyway." He sighed. "Thank you for your kindness, it's more than I deserve." 

"Everyone deserves this," she said, walking to him and taking his hand in one smooth motion. "It's the least I can do. Sit down, I'll fix some dinner for you." She smiled, somewhat shyly, and gestured for him to sit in the rough table's lone chair. "I should have another one, but it broke last season and I haven't had the time to build a new one." She flushed again. "I don't build things very quickly, and not that good, either, as you can probably see." 

Kivan smiled, sitting down in the somewhat lopsided chair and examining the uneven legs. "I can build you a new one tomorrow," he said, testing out the rickety table. "And fix these, too." He looked up to see Deheriana looking at him, a smile on her face. The sadness in her eyes had gone, replaced by happy wonderment. 

"You don't have to," she said, setting down a bowl of thick stew in front of him. "I've made do with those for so long, and it doesn't bother me, really…" 

"Please," Kivan replied, swirling the stew and staring at it to hide his red face, "it's the least I can do." Deheriana smiled at that, and reached across to take his hand, squeezing it briefly. 

"Thank you," she whispered. He shrugged, glancing up only to see her eyes fixed on him, and the smile warm and inviting. He smiled back, making her blush slightly and let go of his hand to move over to the bed. "I'm sorry that I don't have another bed, it's just that I don't get visitors very often and if I do, they're just as happy to sleep on the floor or outside. They're like me, they don't mind sleeping on the floor if it will get them close to nature." She looked down at the bed and smoothed a hand over the quilt covering it. "You can have the bed," she said, and held up a hand, anticipating his protests. "You're wounded, and a good night's rest on a soft bed will help it to heal. Besides," she said with a bright smile, "the floor is that much closer to nature." 

Kivan laughed quietly, taking a bite of the stew. It had been at least a day since he had eaten anything, and a week since his last decent meal. Deheriana was only too glad to refill his bowl several times, eating only a few bites herself. "Have as much as you like," she said, lighting the candles around the cabin with a pair of tongs and a smoldering piece of tinder from the fire. "I always have plenty, and I think you appreciate it more than the animals." 

"Thank you," he said again, drawing another smile from her. 

"You're welcome," she said, and knelt down near the table, sorting through a basket of herbs and plants. After several minutes, she nodded to herself and stood up. "I need to step out for a moment," she said, "to check on the area. You can't be too careful with worgs around." She picked up the basket, reaching for her spear. "Will you be alright?" 

"I'm fine," he said, standing up. She pushed him gently towards the bed. There was a distant rumble of thunder outside; it drew both their attention as it broke the soft silence of the forest and everything went quiet, as if waiting for the storm to break suddenly. Kivan glanced towards Deheriana. "Don't worry," she said, giving him a reassuring touch on the shoulder. "The rain is a long way off. And when it does break, we'll be ready for it. Besides, it's only a summer storm, nothing to worry about now." He nodded, moving towards the bed. 

"There are extra blankets in the basket at the foot," she said, turning to go out the door. She paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at him. "Sleep well. You'll be asleep by the time I come back. And don't worry, nothing will bother you. I'll make sure of that." She smiled again and stepped out the door, closing it behind her. He heard her footsteps rustling softly in the underbrush, and then silence, except for the occasional birdcall from the trees. 

Sitting down on the bed, he pulled off his shirt again, looking down at the bandages wrapped around his chest. They were good cloth, and wrapped so that he could move normally without discomfort. She must do this often, he thought, flexing his muscles. They were sore, but functional, and like she had said, a good night's rest on a soft bed would be the best thing. He rose again to blow out the candles, leaving the room lit by the red-glowing embers of the fire. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on the bed, arranging himself comfortably under the soft quilt. He felt...calm, he decided. To sleep in a real bed, with a roof above him if the storm did decide to break that night, was a luxury he hadn't allowed himself in too long. And Deheriana, with her smile and her laughter and the simple kindness she showed him... He sighed, smiling to himself as he pulled the quilt up around his chest. Within minutes, he was deep within the reverie, the image of Deheriana bright and shining in his mind. 

Deheriana returned less than an hour later, her basket full of fresh herbs and the scent of burnt colewort and peppermint lingering in her hair. With feet accustomed to running through the forest without a sound she moved silently around the cabin, placing the basket of herbs on the table and leaning over Kivan's unmoving body. His eyes were half closed, the eyelids flickering slightly, but he seemed calm. She smiled, pulling the quilt up around him and smoothing a strand of blond hair away from his forehead. With an almost wistful smile she stepped away, reaching for the basket of blankets and pulling out several, making a bed out of them on the floor near the door. Soon she too was at rest, and the only sounds in the quiet cabin were their contented sighs. 

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A/N: So, how'd you like it? A bit sappy, I know, but I can't help it. I'm a sucker for a love story, even if it's not much of one right now. It will be, though, I promise :) I'd be glad to answer any questions about the story, should you have any - drop me a line via email or AIM, or leave a review with the question, and I'll try to answer it for you either right then and there or in the next installment; just be prepared for a long discussion. When I get started, I have trouble stopping. 

The Plot is loosely (and I mean loosely - it's almost falling off) based on a roleplaying campaign my roommate Liz runs. Characters will be making cameos once I figure out where they want to be. I wrote this because I felt that Kivan was severely underwritten in everything I've seen, and I wanted to delve into his past and see what makes him tick. With the way this is heading, I'll find out and then some. 

Thank yous! First, to Liz for beta-reading and giving me invaluable tips on what to do with the story as a whole. Plus, she got me to play the game in the first place, so that's something to say :) To my other beta-reader and friend Rose, for putting up with me while I prattled on about this. You're the nicest person I know (hee hee)! 

Coming Attractions, Literally: Next chapter, we see Deheriana in action and meet some of her friends, to Kivan's dismay. Mental breakdowns, disappearances, and the storm is brewing in the next installment, _Like a Lion, Like a Lamb_


	2. Like a Lion, Like a Lamb

Disclaimer: Baldur's Gate belongs to Black Isle and Wizards of the Coast. I make sacrifices to them regularly. Bastardization of their characters, however, is completely mine. Don't steal from me or them. Author's note at the bottom; Enjoy! 

Advance warning: This chapter is currently unbetaed. A finalized, betaed version should be up in a few days, but I was to anxious to wait. 

Advance warning, also: This chapter contains graphic violence. You have been forewarned. 

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**Before The Storm**   
Chapter 2: Like a Lion, Like a Lamb 

The forest was quiet in the late afternoon heat, animals and plants alike finding the sudden heat wave an excuse for long rests and little sound. The only disturbance to the easy silence was the steady crack of axe on wood, as a lone figure, bare to the waist, split logs behind a small cabin. The crunch of bare feet on the soft carpet of leaves and pine needles covering the clearing was the only other sound. 

"Kivan! Kivan, are you still out there?" Kivan looked up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his arm. His shirt was lying forgotten on the ground, covered in dirt and wood shavings, testament to the work that had consumed his entire morning and most of the afternoon. The voice called again. "Kivan?" 

"I'm around the back," he called back, rewarded with the sight of Deheriana peeking around the side of the cabin. She smiled and stepped around, carrying a tray with several plates and a pitcher on it. 

"There you are," she said, walking towards him. "Your disappearances scare me sometimes." She stepped around the piles of wood shavings that littered Kivan's work area, moving slowly lest some of the stray splinters find her bare feet. Kivan cleared away more of the shavings from the ground and picked up his shirt, attempting to brush it clean before she noticed it. He looked up, then down to see her watching him with amusement. He held out the shirt with slight apprehension. 

She sighed in mock frustration and took the shirt, draping it over her arm with barely a glance to it. "You'll be shirtless until I can wash this," she said, sitting down on the ground next to the tray. Kivan shrugged, reaching for the pitcher of water and pouring half of it on his face in his hurry to drink it. Deheriana made another noise of frustration and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you're going to waste it like that, you can go and get more from the stream later when you want more." 

Kivan lowered the pitcher and set it down, feeling rebuked. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to spill it." He looked up at her apprehensively, to see a look of amusement on her face. 

"I was only joking," she said, throwing his shirt at him. He caught it, smiling slightly as she ladled stew out of a larger bowl into two smaller ones. He mopped up the water with the shirt and then leaned over to pick up a bowl of the steaming soup, letting the shirt hit the ground again. "Although, with the way you get yourself dirty doing household chores I should make you wash your own clothes." Kivan ducked his head, sheepish once again, and waited while Deheriana said a quick prayer of thanksgiving to her god before he began to eat. 

Most of their meal passed in silence, their energy focused on the food set before them. Done with his stew, Kivan sat back and looked up at the canopy of trees above him while Deheriana sliced up a loaf of bread she had baked the day before. It had been a week since she had found him and nursed him back to health, insisting he stay until she was sure his wounds had healed properly. Now, five days since she had pronounced him healthy enough to get out of bed, he was hard at work repaying her for the kindness, fixing what he could around the cabin and building anew what he couldn't fix. Already he had built a new chair to replace the missing one that had broken the season before, and both the table and remaining chair were wobble-free and newly sanded to a clean shine. He had replaced several of the shingles on the roof, having seen the puddles the rain caused when an unexpected storm blew up one night in the middle of the week, and was currently in the process of building a new bed for the cabin. "In case of visitors, right?" he had responded when Deheriana had mentioned building one the night before during dinner. She had smiled softly and looked down at her plate, her face hidden in the shadow of her hair. 

"No, Kivan, for you," she replied, glancing up at him for a moment. "You can't sleep on the floor forever, you know." He had blinked, speechless for several seconds, until time caught up with him and he mumbled his thanks while staring into his plate of greens. She simply smiled, continuing to eat while he tried to hide his face from the embarrassment creeping up his neck. 

Kivan smiled slightly in remembrance, glancing down as Deheriana called his name. "What are you thinking?" she asked, setting down the thin knife she had been using to cut the bread. "You're staring at the sky like it holds all of life's answers." 

"Maybe it does," he said with a sigh, watching a lone bird fly across the blue expanse, crying out one long note. Deheriana glanced up at the sound, watching the bird's flight. 

"Strange," she said softly, "those birds shouldn't be flying that way this time of year…" She stood up, leaving the tray on the ground and brushing the dirt off her knees. "There's something wrong…" 

Two more birds swooped by, uttering the same long note in piercing cries. The trees fluttered with the collective movements of hundreds of birds, twittering. One, then more flew out, calling out the note over and over, until the sky was filled with the flash of feathers and claws. A breeze blew up, fluttering Deheriana's hair around her as she stood staring upward. Kivan stood as well, leaving his shirt forgotten on the ground as he watched the flock fly as one away from the forest to the west of the camp. "Something is very wrong," Deheriana continued, looking at him. "Those birds don't fly east in this large a group at this time of year. For all of them to leave the forest early, and to be giving that warning call, something must be happening." She frowned and began walking towards the cabin, taking her spear from its resting place against the wall. "Selias!" she called, and moments later a huge black wolf leapt from the underbrush towards her, shaking leaves and forest underbrush from its luminous coat. It padded silently to Deheriana's side, nuzzling her hand, smiling a wolfish smile. She stroked its head absently, scanning the forest ahead of her with eyes accustomed to the wilderness. 

The wolf, Selias, turned around and looked suspiciously at Kivan, letting out a low growl. Kivan flinched and stepped back, still unsure of the large animal. In his experience, wild animals like Selias had a tendency to stay wild, no matter how long they had been in the company of people, even one so gentle as Deheriana. Even worse, the wolf seemed to dislike Kivan from their first meeting: the morning after Deheriana had taken Kivan in and made him stay the night. 

Kivan had spent the night in blissful repose, the first good night's sleep he had gotten in what seemed like years. He was warm, comfortable, and well fed, and quite contented to boot. That is, until he opened his eyes. 

There was a hulking, dark shadow leaning over him in the early morning light, making low growling noises. Kivan froze, staring up into the dark golden eyes of whatever was watching him closely and feeling its hot breath on his face. He couldn't move, to see if Deheriana had awoken or if she was even still there, and his hands were pinned underneath the beast's paws. It growled again and leaned closer. 

For a moment, he thought of calling out, to possibly warn Deheriana of the danger. The wolf continued to stare at him. 

"Selias!" Deheriana's voice had called suddenly, slightly angered. "Selias, stop that!" To Kivan's surprise, the wolf stopped growling and raised its head in the direction of Deheriana's voice. It held a warning tone. "Selias…" Kivan turned his head slightly to see her walking towards the bed, her hands on her hips and seemingly unharmed. The wolf turned back to Kivan and growled as it saw his head move. 

"That's it, Selias!" Deheriana strode towards the bed and looked down at the wolf with a stern expression. The wolf looked up at her, matching her gaze for gaze. "Down. Now." 

To his surprise, the wolf obeyed immediately, jumping off the bed. Kivan sat up, gasping for breath and coughing slightly. His ribs felt bruised from the large animal's paws. Hearing his cough, Deheriana broke off scolding the wolf and sat down on the bed, her hand rubbing his back gently. The wolf, sitting by the side of the bed, whined a bit and nuzzled Deheriana's free hand. She looked down at him and tapped his nose sharply. "Do not try that with me," she said with the air of a mother chastising a misbehaving child. The wolf bowed its head, realizing it was in trouble, and walked to the other side of the room, taking a seat in front of the hearth. 

"I apologize for him," she said softly, her cool hand still rubbing small circles on his back. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you badly?" Without waiting for his answer she began examining his chest, pressing lightly on the muscles. He felt his face reddening as her fingers traveled down his bare chest, applying pressure at certain points. 

"I-I'm fine," he stuttered, cursing his tongue for tripping over the words. "R-really, I-I'm okay." She ignored him and continued to examine him. The wolf sat silent, staring at Kivan with narrowed eyes. Kivan tried not to stare back, knowing well that meeting the eyes of a predatory animal usually meant a challenge. 

"I am sorry," she said softly, looking up at him. "Selias isn't used to seeing strange men in my bed." As the words left her lips, she gasped, her hand moving to cover her mouth. "Oh, that came out all wrong. What I meant to say was-" 

"I understand," Kivan said quickly. Deheriana smiled, her ears still a bit pink, and got up. 

"He's a little protective," she continued, sitting on the ground next to the large wolf. "I found him last winter, starving and injured badly. He's been a bit attached to me ever since." Selias, meanwhile, had moved from his spot near the hearth stretched out on the floor beside her, laying his shaggy head in her lap. There was an almost smug look on his shaggy face, as if to say, "Mine." 

"You must be hungry," Deheriana said, oblivious to the looks being exchanged between her animal companion and her patient. "I'll get you some of the fish I caught this morning. It's very fresh." She stood up, pushing Selias's head off her lap, and smiled at Kivan. Then, without another word, she was out the door and disappearing into the sun-dappled courtyard. 

The wolf remained for a moment, staring at Kivan. He growled, swishing his tail angrily, and then stood. Before he exited, however, he looked back at Kivan one last time and snorted, and then sauntered out the door. 

Now, a little over a week later, Selias had shown no sign of liking Kivan. He hadn't been outright hostile like he had that first morning, but it was easy to see that the elf and the wolf didn't feel comfortable around each other, and each was on edge when the other was with Deheriana. Selias growled again and leaned closer to Deheriana, almost winding his lithe body around her legs. She glanced down at him curiously, and saw the looks he and Kivan were exchanging. 

"Stop," she said softly, and their attention was immediately diverted to her. She smiled slightly and nodded, once again turning to concentrate on the apparent problem with the forest wildlife. 

She crouched on her heels next to Selias, whispering several words in his ear while stroking his back. A moment later she paused, and Selias licked her palm and bounded away without a backward glance, disappearing into the forest at the far end of the clearing. Without a word, she stood up and strode quickly towards the cabin. Kivan watched for a heartbeat, then followed quickly. 

He found her digging through a closet in the back of the cabin, glancing at the items in her hands briefly before letting them drop to the floor. Weapons of every shape and size soon littered the floor, as well as spare shirts, pants, robes, and cloaks thrown carelessly across chairs and bed. There was some pattern to her seeming madness, however, because soon it became apparent to Kivan that she was sorting the items. A pile on her immediate left was growing; two spears, a folded net, a long blowgun with a packet of darts, and a wickedly sharp silver dagger were soon at her feet, lying haphazardly among several pieces of cloth. 

"What are you doing?" Kivan asked softly, taking a step towards her. She paused, and without turning around answered him. 

"Preparing." 

Kivan took another step towards her, curious. It was obvious that she was planning on tracking whatever had caused the birds to flee the forest, and engage in battle could she find it. The grim sound in her voice worried him as well. She couldn't be thinking of going alone, with only the wolf to help her…Kivan watched her closely, tracing a knothole on the table absently. 

After several minutes, she leaned over and picked up several pieces of clothing, disappearing behind the screen she had hung in the northeast corner to provide privacy for them both. There was rustling, and a moment later she emerged wearing a shirt and vest, adjusting well-made bracers on her forearms. Her skirt had been traded in for tight-fitting pants, tucked into thin boots, and Kivan stared as he watched her move free of the folds of fabric she so often wore. 

A wolf howled from the woods, and seconds later Selias leaped through the window, almost clipping Kivan's head as he did. The wolf skidded to a halt and looked at Deheriana, who nodded. Selias then ran in a circle twice, crouched down and suddenly leaped up, balancing on his hind legs for a moment before crashing back down to all fours. Deheriana, watching with a grim face, let out a low growl, causing Kivan to look at her in surprise. 

"Goblins," she spat out angrily, and began braiding her hair back tightly, tying it with a leather thong at the nape of her neck. There was a dangerous expression on her face. Selias, knowing his mistress was preparing for battle, howled joyfully and bounded around the room like a puppy. Kivan frowned and stood. 

"What does this mean?" he asked softly. Seeing Deheriana like this troubled him; the kind, gentle Deheriana that smiled and laughed at him was gone, replaced by a cool warrior maid. She swung around, her lips a thin, grim line, and looked at him. For a second, her expression softened as she met his eyes. 

"There are goblins in my forest, Kivan," she said, grinding out the name of the foul race through gritted teeth. "I don't have a choice. I need to fight." 

"All alone?" He took a step towards her. She looked away, shouldering the spears. 

"You wouldn't understand," she said softly, her head down. Without looking up, she walked past him and out into the courtyard. 

The sun was gone and clouds were gathering in the west, throwing dark shadows across the once bright clearing. Kivan watched through the door as she knelt down on one knee, tying the spears in a bundle. The net was strapped to her side, as was the blowgun and darts, and the sheathed dagger she slid into her right boot. Then, she straightened up, stretching her arms up to the heavens and rolling her neck. Selias bounded around her, stopping as she glanced towards him and spoke a word. He dashed away and Deheriana followed, disappearing from view as she moved towards the forest. As she did, Kivan's gaze fell on a longbow lying forgotten among the clutter of the closet. 

Deheriana had almost reached the edge of the clearing when a crunch of leaves behind her made her pause. She turned to see Kivan behind her, a longbow and quiver of arrows on his back moving as he buttoned up a clean shirt from the closet. He stopped a few paces away from her and clutched the bow with one hand, a determined look on his face. "I'm coming with you." 

"No," she said firmly. "It's too dangerous." Selias whined, and she jerked her head towards the forest. The wolf began sniffing around the underbrush, searching for the scent of the goblins. 

"I want to help," Kivan stressed, following her as she stepped forward. She sighed. 

"Kivan, you just recovered from a serious injury…" 

"I'm fully recovered!" His voice startled several birds in the trees above him, making them skitter away in fright. Deheriana frowned. 

"No," she continued, "I don't want you getting hurt. It's dangerous." 

"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, and I won't let you go alone!" Selias let out a warning growl as Kivan's voice rose. Deheriana shushed him and turned to Kivan. 

"Stop this now," she said, her voice low but stern. "You're acting like a child." Kivan fell silent, staring at the ground and frowning. "I've lived here for a very long time, Kivan," she continued. "I know these woods like I know my own body. Every trail is a line in my palm. Every leaf is a strand of my hair. Every drop of water is a drop of my own blood." Kivan glanced up. She was staring towards the cloud formations in the west, unsmiling. "It is my duty to defend the forest like it was my own body." She looked towards him, her eyes concerned. "I refuse to let you risk yourself for this. You don't know me well enough to do that." 

"Then I want to learn." His mouth was set in a determined line, and he planted his feet, unmoving. His eyes met her in an unblinking stare. "Teach me." 

Deheriana watched him for several minutes, studying his face. After a moment, she nodded slowly. "Can you use that bow?" Kivan nodded silently, unshouldering the longbow and testing the string. "Nock an arrow," she instructed, and he did, pointing the taut bow towards the ground. He glanced up to see her pulling a square-shaped piece of cloth from a pack at her waist. She crumpled it in her hand. "Hit this." 

She tossed it high in the air, and Kivan watched it rise ten feet before the wind uncrumpled it and spread its six-inch square area to the sky. Kivan raised his bow quickly and squinted down the shaft of the arrow, pulling the string as far as it would go. For several seconds he followed the cloth with the tip as it drifted slowly to earth, moving with the breeze. Then, praying to all the gods for a true strike, he released the arrow. 

It flew straight, catching the cloth in its lower left corner and punching through. Its momentum ruined, the arrow plummeted to the ground and landed with its head buried in the hard earth of the clearing, the cloth flying like a ragged flag from the end. Deheriana walked to it and pulled it from the ground, wiping the dirt from the head. 

"Good," she said softly, tossing the arrow back to Kivan and folding the cloth. Kivan caught the arrow, a slightly incredulous look passing over his features. "But not good enough. Next time, hit the center." She let her gaze linger on him for a moment, then walked past him to the edge of the clearing. 

Kivan hung his head, turning away. He had failed. He had one chance, and he failed. A frown creased his cheeks and he kicked at the dirt, moving to walk away. 

"Will you be silent?" Her voice made him pause and turn around. She watched him, an unreadable expression in her eyes. 

"Y-y-yes," he said, cursing his nervous stutter again. She raised an eyebrow. 

"So silent that you could pass a sleeping owl and not wake it?" Kivan paused, then nodded silently. Deheriana let a fleeting smile turn her lips. 

"Good," she said again, beckoning to him. "Lesson one begins here then. Try not to breathe too loud." Selias, fidgeting nervously at the edge of the clearing, howled again and leapt into the woods, leaving nothing but shivering leaves behind. Deheriana followed, disappearing into the forest without a sound, and Kivan took a deep breath, muttering a prayer before following her. 

The forest floor was covered with a carpet of dead leaves, muffling their footsteps. "Ground like this is good for moving silently," Deheriana whispered to him as she knelt down, motioning for him to do the same. Selias, searching the ground for the scent, paused to look at them before going back to his tracking. Deheriana took Kivan's hand and pressed it into the dead leaves, showing him the slight bounce they lent to the earth. "However," she said, standing up, "it also lets the enemy move as quiet as we do. We must keep our ears and eyes open." Kivan stood as well and watched her point to where Selias was disappearing into the underbrush, his tail all that remained. "Come. There are dangers everywhere. Watch yourself." 

For close to three hours they traveled through the forest, Kivan following obediently behind Deheriana and Selias and trying hard not to breathe too loud. Deheriana was silent for the most part, talking only to point out a twisted blade of grass where the goblins had walked or a scrap of cloth left behind on a thorn. Selias walked without pause, stopping only to sniff one of the clues Deheriana found, and even then only for a moment. "They are careless," she said softly, examining a lone footprint in a patch of hardening mud. "Strange…Goblins are notoriously hard to track, purely because they're light on their feet and careful where they step. Something must have happened to make them move this quickly, without covering the trail. Very strange…" She was silent after that, and spoke no more. 

Kivan's feet hurt from the tireless walk, and he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. Three hours they had been walking with no stop, and the summer heat made the close branches and stagnant air unbearable. He paused when Deheriana was knelt down beside a snapped branch, wiping his sleeve across his brow and trying to catch his breath as quietly as possible. However, despite his quiet caution, Deheriana noticed as she stood. 

She whistled to Selias softly, calling him back from his position several yards in front of them, and hurried to Kivan's side, pulling a vial from her pack. "I forget that you're not used to this," she said softly, laying a cool hand on his forehead. "Drink this." She held the vial to his lips and he drank, letting the cool liquid trickle down his throat. Immediately, Kivan felt something like a cool breeze wash over him, driving away the feverish chills from his tired body. A drop trickled from the corner of his mouth; she wiped it away with her sleeve and watched as the unhealthy red color in his cheeks and neck disappeared. "That should keep you cool for a bit," she said with a smile, reaching up to push the hair out of his eyes. "Tell me if it comes back." With a soft call for Selias to continue, she began walking again, her feet making no sound on the forest floor. 

Kivan stared after her, feeling his feet stop aching and the sweat dry up on his back. She glanced back at him and beckoned, and he hurried to catch up to her. As he reached her side, she looked up at him, smiling slightly. 

"You have a lot to learn yet," she said, looking back to the trail ahead. Kivan said nothing, keeping his eyes focused on the ground and any stray twigs that threatened to betray them. "One day, though, you'll be a fine protector." She said nothing else, and they continued walking in silence. 

After another hour, Kivan could tell they were getting closer to the goblins. Birds flew over their heads, crying out as they sped away, and the sounds of animals scattering and occasional high-pitched laughter and deep growls too close for comfort leaked out of the trees ahead of them. Deheriana was no longer smiling - her lips were curled angrily and he could hear soft growling from the back of her throat. Strands of hair had fallen loose from her braid, and dirt streaked her face from where she had run her hands over her cheeks, making her look almost feral and wild. She glanced at Kivan, looking every inch the hunter. 

"In there," she said softly, pointing through the trees into a small clearing. Peering through the brush, Kivan could make out the angry shapes of close to a dozen goblins, squabbling over a slab of meat. Nearby, a pile of slaughtered deer gave testament to the hunting they had done. A worg lounged nearby, watching the goblins with a bored look on its face and chewing on a meaty bone. Kivan recognized it as the worg that had attacked him the week before, and felt a phantom pain stab at his chest. 

He glanced at Deheriana, catching only her feet as she swung herself up into a nearby tree with the grace of a practiced acrobat and the silence of a jungle cat. A moment later her hand beckoned him closer, and he stepped under the shade of the tree, looking up to see her perched on a low branch, keeping watch through the leaves. 

"Circle around," she said shortly, not taking her eyes away from the goblins. "Start shooting when you get opposite me. You will take out as many as you can. I'll take the rest." He noted that she had said 'will' rather than 'should,' leaving no room for error. He had to get as many as he could. He didn't want to fail her again. 

With a silent signal she dismissed him, and he began a laborious crawl through the underbrush to the opposite side. Several times his foot slipped, or his hand brushed a branch, creating a rustling leaf or a snapping twig that made him wince at the sharp noise. The goblins took little notice, however, and continued their squabbling over the remains of another deer, tugging on bones and antlers alike. Halfway to his destination, he paused to wipe his brow. The potion Deheriana had fed him the hour before was beginning to wear off, and he could feel the sweat droplets forming in the hollow of his back and making the hair on his neck stand up slightly. He took several silent breaths and then continued, moving towards the far end of the camp as quietly and as quickly as he could, wondering just what Deheriana planned to do. 

He got his answer as he reached the edge of the clearing and concealed himself behind a large tree. Pulling an arrow from his quiver, he glanced towards the large tree directly opposite him. He couldn't see Deheriana - he didn't expect to. It seemed like she could hide behind a blade of grass or under a leaf and still go unnoticed to all but the most sensitive of animals. Nocking the arrow, he took a deep breath, sighted along the shaft, and fired into the midst of the goblin argument. 

His first arrow missed and hit the deer carcass, sticking straight in the air an inch away from the furthest goblin's foot. The little humanoid squealed and jumped back, shouting several words in the guttural goblin language to its companions. They were immediately on guard, and Kivan, ducked behind the tree, cursed his shaking aim and fitted another arrow onto the string. Aiming again, he swung around and fired again, watching with satisfaction as it caught one through the spine, dropping it. One down, he thought to himself as he pulled yet another arrow from his quiver, getting ready to fire again. 

Another arrow: A hit. The goblin fell to the ground, nursing a wound deep in its calf. Yet another arrow: A miss. It sailed over the heads of the goblins and buried itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. The goblins were in disarray, running around without direction and screaming goblin curses and prayers. Not one of them had noticed that the arrows were only coming from one side of the clearing - There was no sound or movement from Deheriana's side. Kivan wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and nocked another arrow, praying as he let it go that Deheriana had a plan. 

A second later, there was a strange noise from the tree where Deheriana was perched, and Kivan glanced around the tree trunk to keep watch, a fresh arrow on his drawn bowstring . The worg, the only member of the small group that wasn't panicking, was pacing around the goblins, peering into the trees all around the clearing and growling as his soldiers ran in panic around him. He was only feet away from Kivan when the noises distracted him, and with a final glare into the woods, turned. 

A dark shadow dropped from the tree, landing on the soft earth noiselessly. It rose from its crouching position, its features hidden by the shadows. Kivan drew a noiseless breath as he watched Deheriana walk calmly into the midst of the goblins, staring down at them with such hate that it hurt him to watch her. The goblins clutched their weapons and stared up at her in part fear and part awe, and the worg growled dangerously. From the bushes behind her Selias snaked out, curling around her legs as he surveyed the enemy. His eyes fell on the worg and he bared his teeth, despite the fact that the unnatural wolf-like creature was half again of his length. Deheriana's lip curled as she leaned on the intricately carved spear she always carried with her. 

She spoke then, in the goblin language. It surprised and pained Kivan to hear her musical voice, normally soft and sweet, twisted around the foul syllables of the goblins. It sounded harsh and violent, and she spat the words out like they disgusted her. The goblins cowered, silent, but the worg growled something that sounded like a threat in the goblin language, and Deheriana pointed the spear at it, speaking again. It growled and bared its teeth, and with a final half-growl, half-shout, leaped at her throat. 

She sidestepped easily and slashed the razor sharp point of the spear across its throat, spilling its dark red blood on the thirsty earth. It landed and stumbled, its back legs faltering as it gasped futily for air through its torn windpipe. Eyes narrowed, it turned and leaped again for Deheriana, who turned to meet it just in time for its chest to meet the blood-red tip of the spear in her hands. An unearthly scream filled the clearing as it fell dead, its glassy eyes rolling back into its head and its tongue, red with its own blood, lolled out of its open mouth. The spear was buried halfway into its ribs, dark blood staining the shaft and tracing the leaves and vines carved into it. 

With a jerk she pulled the spear free, watching with a dark smile as the worg slumped lifeless to the earth. The goblins murmured fearfully, having witnessed the quick and painful death of what was obviously their leader, and the largest, wearing a copper helmet, shouted what a few angry words to her. Kivan watched as a smile spread across Deheriana's lips, utterly frightening and maniacal, and she answered calmly, spitting on the carcass of the worg. Selias growled. 

The helmet-wearing leader barked out a quick phrase and three of the goblins charged towards her, morningstars at the ready. There was obvious fear in their eyes. She leapt over their charge, flipping gracefully in the air and landing behind them, confusing them utterly. As they stumbled to a halt and twisted around, she reached out with lightning-quick hands and snapped one of their necks, spearing another through the stomach and slicing the throat of a third with the silver dagger pulled from her boot. They fell in a heap, dead before they even knew it. The remaining goblins hesitated, their sudden courage evaporating even though they outnumbered her and Selias four to one. From his hiding place, Kivan knew that hesitation cost them their lives, as another smile spread across the hunter's face. 

Like a whirlwind she tore through them, killing with an ease Kivan didn't know she could possess. He watched in horror as she used the spear to toss one goblin up in the air, only to have him land on the point of another spear she had hidden in the bushes surrounding the clearing. Selias took down three at a time, tearing their throats out with animalistic gusto. Within minutes only the goblin leader remained, backed against a tree by Selias's teeth and Deheriana's spear. 

"Please, please, elf," it begged, its voice sounding foreign and wrong around the flowing Elven words. "Let Nartok go! No hurting!" 

"Why should I?" Even in Elven, Deheriana's voice sounded low and dangerous. It made Kivan shiver from behind the tree. The goblin trembled as well. 

"Nartok under ordering! Must be killing, burning! Nartok not wanting hurt deers!" His shaking hand gestured to the pile of deer carcasses. Deheriana growled again and pressed the tip of the spear against the goblin's throat. A drop of blood trickled down its neck at it sucked in its chest. 

"Who?" she growled, making the goblin shake even more. 

"Bandits! Bandits capture goblins, making them be working for foods! Let Nartok go!" The goblin struggled and squealed as her hand shot out to grab it by the throat. "Bandits! Bandits making goblins doing this!" 

Kivan watched her hand tighten around the goblin's neck, making it gurgle as it struggled to draw breath. Its small hands clawed at her fingers, but she continued squeezing, her teeth gritted. 

"Bandits you say?" The goblin nodded, gasping for air. "They captured you and forced you to do this?" Again, the goblin nodded, its struggling becoming more panic-filled. "And you had no choice?" 

"No choice!" The goblin's hands clasped together around her unmoving arm. "Had to! Had to! Mercy, elf!" 

A sudden smile from her made the goblin cry out in fright. "You're wrong, goblin," she said in a deadly whisper, watching as the goblin's eyes finally grew dull from lack of air. "No one is forced to do anything. Bandits or no, you hurt me in a way that cannot be repaired with last minute regrets. And so, you pay for it." With a quick motion she slammed the goblin's head into the tree trunk with a dull thud, covering the hand at its throat with blood. 

Kivan screwed his eyes shut and leaned against the tree, his own breath shallow. She had killed in cold blood. The creature had begged for its life, and she had killed it with her bare hands. The voice kept running through his head, the screeching words tearing at his mind - it had asked for mercy and she had shown none. He relaxed the taut bowstring and leaned his head back against the tree trunk, trying to free his mind from the dead goblin's screeching. 

A moment later, his ears perked at soft weeping coming from the clearing. Cautiously, he peered around the tree, his bow at the ready. His eyes widened as he saw Deheriana, kneeling in the center of the clearing, her hands pressed to her face and her body shaking as she sobbed out loud. The spear lay beside her, its tip red and glistening with fresh blood, and her own body was spattered with both her own blood and the blood of the decimated goblins. Her hair was loose from its braid and flowed down her back, its color dulled by the blood and sweat. Nearby, Selias sat staring at her. He was obviously waiting for something. 

"Deheriana?" Kivan moved away from the tree and took a step towards her, wanting to comfort her but afraid of the monster that seemed to possess her. The goblin shrieked for mercy from beyond the grave. He hesitated, waiting for a response, but there was none. He took another step. "Deheriana…?" 

She let her hands drop, revealing a face stained with mingled blood and tears. It made a pattern on her cheeks, swirls of red and pink that would be beautiful if it wasn't for the utter pain that was in her eyes. Whatever monster that possessed her was gone, thankfully, but it left behind the destroyed psyche of a beautiful woman. "Skerrit forgive me," she whispered, looking down at her hands. Like her face they were covered with blood, foreign and vibrant red, making the lines on her palms stand out even more. 

He reached out a hand to her, confused and worried for her. She shied away like an abused animal. "No," she whispered, not meeting his eyes. "Don't, please." Worried but willing to obey, he pulled his hand away and crouched silently beside her. 

"Selias," she called, and the wolf bounded over, settling in front of her. "Take Kivan home." The wolf turned to look at Kivan neutrally, and then nuzzled the side of Deheriana's face. She shied away from him as well, and Selias, dropping his head in a gesture of resignation, walked slowly to the edge of the clearing, looking back for Kivan to follow him. "Go, Kivan," she said softly, turning away from him. She rose to her feet slowly and shakily, shaking her hair out of her face. Picking up the spear, she looked around at the carnage marring the forest floor. 

Kivan rose as well, but didn't leave the clearing. He stared at her as she slowly moved around the clearing, nudging the bodies of the goblins with the butt of her spear and keeping a wide berth from the worg corpse. She looked broken. 

"I don't understand," he said softly. She paused. 

"You wouldn't," she replied shortly, continuing around the perimeter. As she passed him, he stopped her with a hand. She jumped back, away from him, looking angry. "Kivan, leave. I have to finish things here." 

"I don't want to," he said, moving to stand in front of her. She stared at him, her expression unchanging and angry. He tried his best to meet her gaze, blue and hard. "Please, tell me what just happened." 

"Nothing," she said, pushing past him. His arm grazed her side as she did, and she gasped in pain. Her hands, pressed against her side, moved to reveal a blood-soaked stain on her shirt. Kivan was at her side immediately at the sight of a wound he didn't know she had, but she pushed him away violently. 

"Let me help!" he said angrily as she backed away, a look of panic crossing her face at his sudden outburst. She shook her head, one hand at her side. 

"No," she whispered, "no, Kivan, just leave. You don't understand enough." 

"How can I understand if you won't tell me?" His words were angry as he took another step toward her. She leaned on the spear heavily, holding a hand in front of her. 

"Kivan, leave," she said, her voice becoming angry once again. "Go home." 

"No!" 

"You don't know me!" She screamed finally, her hair flying up as a gust of wind blew across the clearing. "You may never know me! Accept that and leave me to my demons!" Kivan tried to take another step forward, but found Selias standing between him and her angry figure, growling. In a moment of panic he reached for the short sword at his waist, wondering if the wolf would finally attack him. 

"Don't hurt him," she said softly, turning away. Kivan was unsure of who she had aimed the order at, and looked up to see her disappearing into the far side of the clearing. He tried to follow, but Selias tackled him to the ground, standing with his front paws on his chest and preventing him from moving. Kivan struggled for a minute, but his sword arm was pinned to the ground and he had no other way of moving the beast away. A few close snaps at his face made him lie still at last, and he watched the spot where she had disappeared for several minutes more, ignoring the low growls coming from Selias and not sitting up until the wolf had climbed off him and was sitting impatiently next to the clearing's edge. Sighing, he stood, brushing the dirt and mud off his shirt and pants and collecting the stray arrows that he could salvage. He didn't touch any of the bodies, almost scared of what Deheriana would do if she saw him, and leaned against one of the trees to survey the clearing one last time before heading out. The air was getting cold already, and the clouds in the west looked closer and darker than they had before. No thunder yet, though, and Kivan prayed that the rain wouldn't come yet, at least before he was home. 

He paused for a moment. _Home_. Deheriana had said to Selias, 'Take Kivan home.' He had a home. For the first time in over a decade, he had a home, a place to go back to at the end of the day. He felt himself smiling despite the anger still hot in his chest. Selias padded over to him and nipped his hand gently, to get his attention. Kivan nodded and turned to follow the wolf into the forest, to go back home. He only spared a final look at the empty circle of trees, and a final prayer to whatever god was listening. "Bring us all home safely." 

From a tree on the other side of the forest, a pair of tear-stained eyes watched Selias and Kivan begin their walk back to the cabin clearing. Noiselessly, Deheriana dropped from the branch and shook her hair out, wincing as the pain in her side stung. Her ears strained, listening for the soft sounds of wolf and elf brushing through the underbrush. It wouldn't take long for them to get back to the cabin - the walk to the goblins had gone slow because of tracking and silence, and Deheriana knew that there was nothing else in the forest that would delay them. In less than two hours they would be nearing the cabin and warm beds for both of them. Not for her. 

She let herself sit on the ground in the midst of the battle scars she had produced, staring after the still moving branches that Kivan had disappeared through. Tears formed in her eyes, and she angrily wiped them away. _Stupid girl_, a voice in her head said softly, tauntingly. _Letting him walk away_. Struggling to her feet, she ignored the pain in her side and gritted her teeth. _Penance_, the voice crooned in her head, _you bring this on yourself_. Silently, she began to push the bodies of the goblins into a pile in the center of the clearing, knowing that the moon would be full and high before she had even finished getting the bonfire ready. _Penance, Heri. Penance_. 

* * *

A little over two hours later, Kivan and Selias were pulling themselves into the cabin's clearing, both tired and hot and happy to have somewhere to lay their aching bodies. Kivan glanced back to the west, wondering when Deheriana would be back, and if she was hurt too badly to make it back before nightfall. A voice in the back of his head told him that she was more than capable of taking care of herself in her own territory, and that he shouldn't be worried about her. She had taken down an entire company of goblins almost single-handedly, he reminded himself, sitting down heavily at the table. His sweat and blood soaked shirt fell to the floor and he slumped down, holding his chin in his hands. His sigh pushed a stray leaf across the table and to the floor, where Selias caught it against the wood with a paw. Kivan looked down at the large animal. 

"Are you worried too?" he asked. Selias raised his head and stared at Kivan, eyes bright, snorted, and stretched out again, his head in his paws and his eyes fixed on the door. Sighing again, Kivan stood up and shuffled to his makeshift bed on the floor, sitting down on the soft blankets. His gaze fell unbidden on Deheriana's empty bed, and he forced himself to turn on his back and stare up at the ceiling to avoid the mocking quilts and pillows that didn't hide her hair between the folds. He was starting to get a headache. 

_Go to sleep_, he said to himself, _she's fine, don't worry, don't lose sleep over it_. He screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in the blankets, forcing his mind clear of any thoughts. "Sleep," he muttered, making Selias raise his head at the sound. He pulled the blankets over his head and groaned. "Sleep, Kivan, sleep. She's not coming back tonight." Throwing the blanket off his head, he stared up at the ceiling and began to count the knotholes in the shingles. It was several hours before he was tired enough to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

When the sun awoke him the next morning, she was no where to be found. He sliced up more of the bread for breakfast, heating the remaining stew to tepidness as best he could, and sat alone at the table watching the forest as he ate. She didn't return. She didn't return all day. 

Inner conflict raged inside Kivan's head; part of him was worried sick over what could have happened to Deheriana, wounded and alone in the forest and not in full control of her mind as well, judging from the horrific outbursts he had witnessed the day before in the clearing. At the same time, another insistent voice in the back of his mind wondered fearfully just what had happened back in the clearing, and what had driven the gentle woman into such frenzy. Images of Deheriana slaughtering the goblins without mercy or care and growling out the guttural goblin language with a practiced tongue came unbidden to his restless eyes…He wondered just how much he knew of her. How much had she revealed in the short time they had been together? Not much, it seemed. Now there was an entire side for Kivan to discover, and part of him was quite willing to leave it alone. 

Determined not to let Deheriana's unexplained absence deter him, he threw himself into his work. Distractions or no, he finished building the second bed in record time, and by the second day was busying himself with carving leaves and vines into the headboard, copied from a painting hanging over Deheriana's bed. By the third day, he had carved similar symbols into the doorframe, the edge of the table, and the backrests of the chairs. Having run out of furniture, he took to sitting outside by the front door carving any piece of dry, dead wood he could find. Selias often joined him, sitting at his feet and watching the edge of the clearing. Kivan found him surprisingly calm, and the wolf even allowed himself to be scratched behind the ears, showing no sign of the anger and resentment that had existed not forty-eight hours ago. "I suppose we both need some reassurance," Kivan said softly, and Selias licked his hand once before settling down at his feet to watch the forest. And so, three days passed. 

It was late evening on the third day when Selias, having claimed Deheriana's bed in her absence, suddenly sat up straight from his dozing. Kivan, sitting at the table with a cup of cold water, the only edible thing he could find, followed the wolf's gaze. Selias's gaze was fixed on a spot on the edge of the clearing, and without warning the large animal jumped off the bed and bolted out the cabin door. After retrieving his bow from a hook near the door, Kivan followed. 

Joyful baying greeted his ears as he stepped outside, and to his utter surprise and delight he saw Deheriana, clean and seemingly unwounded, kneeling beside Selias, who wiggled like a puppy under her touch. She glanced up and met Kivan's gaze, and smiled, rising and tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. Behind her, the sun made a halo around her head. Kivan felt his stomach twist nervously at the sight. 

"I-I-I…" he began, his tongue slipping over the words. She smiled again and walked towards him, Selias following closely behind. Pausing in front of him, she looked up into his eyes for several moments before he regained his ability to speak. 

"Where were you?" he blurted out, the anxiety he had been feeling for the past three days finally bubbling up and out. She frowned, her eyes darkening, and shook her head slowly. 

"I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind," she said softly, looking away and dropping a hand to Selias's soft furred head. "Suffice to say, I've regained whatever control I lost, and what happened back there--" she took a deep breath, "-is in the past. It's forgotten, I trust?" She fixed him with a hard stare, and Kivan swallowed and nodded mutely, not wishing to argue with her any longer. 

She continued staring at him for several more seconds, unnerving him with her unfaltering blue gaze. They were such an odd color for an elf, those blue eyes; rare especially for a wood elf, which he suspected she was. It was a popular belief among the wood elves that a child born with blue eyes was meant for great things; renowned leaders often had the strangely clear eyes, and the village elders told stories of heroes whose eyes flashed like the sun in a deep pool of water. Kivan had never seen an elf with blue eyes, aside from the occasional moon elf he had glimpsed on the outskirts of some of the larger cities and never a sylvan elf. He could feel his hands shaking, and swallowed hard once again. For an outwardly delicate woman, she held tremendous strength in her stare. 

"You're shaking." Kivan blinked, his thoughts disappearing like a spoonful of salt dropped in broth. Deheriana's eyes were no longer hard flecks of sapphire; they had softened into the dark blue of evening skies and held a shimmer of concern. "Is something wrong?" 

"I-I-I…" He paused, swallowing his stutter. "I was just thinking…h-how nice it is to have you back here." He felt himself reddening and ducked his head, finding the fraying hem of his shirt fascinating. "I - we were so worried after you didn't come home…especially with your injury…" He stressed the 'we' after a glance at Selias, hoping it would make him sound like less of a worrier, and then fell silent. _She must think I'm so foolish…_

She was suddenly there, her arms pulling him into a tight hug that gave proof to the lithe muscle hidden inside her. Though the crown of her head just crested the bottom of his nose, he felt suddenly small, a timid mouse next to her lion. And just as suddenly, he felt like a gentle shepherd comforting a lamb that had lost its way. It was an odd feeling, staying for only a fraction of a heartbeat, and then he hugged her back, just as tight. 

"Thank you," she said softly, her breath tickling the short hairs along the back of his neck. "It's been many years since someone thought to worry about me." Kivan stuttered a reply, and she laughed, pulling away from him slightly and pushing his blond bangs away from his eyes. "I think I could get used to that." 

A sudden blush threatened to burn the skin off his face and he ducked his head once again, words not making sense as they tumbled from his lips. She listened for a moment and then smiled up at him, blue eyes twinkling as she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Are you hungry?" He paused, unsure of how to answer that he had subsided on lukewarm soup and stale bread for three days, but before he could shake his head his stomach let out a tremendous growl. Selias jumped back, blinking yellow wolf eyes. Deheriana burst into laughter that rang throughout the clearing. 

"Come along, I'll make you something warm to calm the beholder in your stomach." Before he knew it, he was being tugged towards the cabin, Selias close on their heels. "You'll need your strength, I think." 

"What?" Kivan paused at the doorway, letting Deheriana light the oil lamps and start a fire in the hearth. As she lifted a basket down from a shelf, she turned to him, a sly smile on her face in the flickering lights. 

"Tomorrow, Kivan," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and spinning a paring knife in her free hand, "tomorrow, we begin your training." The knife hit the cutting board with a satisfying 'thunk' and Kivan, despite himself, grinned. 

* * *

So, six months and 15 pages later, Chapter Two is finally finished. Sincerest apologies to those of you who were actually waiting for this next chapter, but writer's block hit me about fourteen pages in and I couldn't finish it. But it's done now, and I promise it won't be forever until the next chapter. Christmas break is coming up, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to write (in between heartwarming family events, of course). 

My views on this chapter: I hate the beginning. It seems trite and cliched. Maybe it's just me, I don't know. But writing the goblin battle/death sequence was the most fun I've ever had. I think it helps that I was in a bit of a homicidal mood that day. And like the elven ranger in my friend's campaign would say if he had a sense of humor, "Goblins are like potato chips. You never can kill just one." Scratch that, he does have a sense of humor, but I don't think he'd say that anyway. It would be funny though. *Gah, get back on topic!* Okay, anyway; for some reason, the ending scene gave me no end of trouble. Everything they said came out wrong, or was competely out of character, or just sounded stupid. But I think I finally hit it. I hope. Gods, I hope. 

On a slightly silly note, credit for the "beholder in your stomach" like goes to Liz, who claims she has a tame beholder named Blinky living in her stomach. For those of you completely confused, this is a beholder. Scary, huh? They're extremely smart, and that big central eye radiates an antimagic field. I won't go into details, but suffice to say they're very loud. *sigh* Methinks this joke will be lost due to too much explaination. 

As I warned before, this is an UNBETAED Chapter Two. Within the next few days I may be making changes, so you may want to check back to see if there were any. And, as always, input is appreciated; You'll get special thanks if you find something I missed, I promise :) 

Thanks to the reviewers (Silver, J. D. Dunsany, and Dominique). It's always better to get a few really good reviews than a bunch of one liners, I say :) 

Next Chapter: Kivan starts his ranger training, and Deheriana gets a strange visitor in preparation for the annual Equinox Festival...Are you excited yet? Chapter Three: _Graze Heaven With An Arrow_


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